Arashi
by BettieNoir
Summary: She plays music like a goddess of the seas. Her music and spirit drew the attention of the gods. Chihiro's abduction takes her back into the Spirit World. Her postition is the great apprentice to the witch of a teahouse, a dangerous and deceptive palace,
1. All Rivers

Arashi  
  
All Rivers  
  
Laughing, she raised her hands in am intricate dance plucking the strings mercilessly. Crescendos, peaks, rising to the fevered pitch of her music. She had no need of the music being written on paper. The music came freely from her hands. She could hear the sounds of joy around her as her friends and family danced to her melody. Music. It was her talent. Her joy. Her savior from the mundane. As the song came to end, applause lit the entire room and joyfully Chihiro bowed three times and retired back to her seat besides her mother.  
  
Yuko, once a very beautiful woman, still had her youthful smooth complexion but years of dealing with her husband made her a great more wary looking than a typical woman of her age should have been. Akio, still stout and goofy, toasted loudly and a bit drunkenly spilling half the good sake on the table cloth and his suit while his wife dabbed at her husbands clothing with a napkin. The marriage was not what one would call fairy tale. In actuality, the marriage was never "magical". Yuko stopped trying to clean the sake stain and simply sat back in her seat, smoothing her gown as she did. It was expensive. More expensive than she would have liked it to have been. She bought it with Chihiro on a mother daughter shopping trip. It was Chihiro who found it and Chihiro who convinced her to buy it. All Chihiro.  
  
Sipping delicately at her own sake, Yuko stole a glance at her daughter who was glowing under the praise and her own success. Her mouth was parted and watching her father with a politely interested expression. The mother chuckled to herself. Her husband was never a great speaker and Chihiro could not hide her emotions from her own mother. While Chihiro's two beautiful eyes were trained on her father, her hands were gently strumming a ballad on her biwa.  
  
Yuko savored the moment, closing her eyes. She loved this kind of music best. Slow and calm. The music was best described as two oars, rowed by a strong man in deep waters. Her father was a fisherman in Okinawa and her Yuko's mother too grew up by the great seas of Japan. In that way, there was never a month in Yuko's childhood when she did not feel salt water on her ankles whether she was rushing to meet her father on the docks her playing with her mother's nieces by the muddy banks. Her studies were average at best and at worst, horrendous. Luckily for Yuko, her mother was a traditional woman whose expectations of Yuko only involved marriage and children.  
  
She found her love in a local man with whom she had played with since childhood, whom her mother had known from birth. Her father was good friends with his and it seemed the perfect match. For this man, she was willing to forsake her dreams of leaving the village. For him she would do anything. She was content in being the mother of his children and to wait for him to come home every night. Her mother laughed with joy at their engagement. Her father toasted to them at almost every meal. The two families were so happy. But life and work went on. Yuko was only sixteen, a high school drop out who stayed at home with the endless chores and learning to be a proper wife. Her fiancée went out to sea every morning and she would be there before he left every day with his lunch packed neatly in a bento box. "My darling. My angel", he called her when he slipped a simple silver ring on her finger. Plain, elegant and the best he could do. This money, he sweated and labored for. She loved it. She would let him kiss her cheek and he would whisper, "Wait for me." And she would set the table for him every night and she would wait. And wait. And he would come home to her and they would laugh and eat and love. One night she waited and waited. But he did not come back.  
  
They said the storm devoured him like a child devoured candy. In one gulp, there was no trace left!  
  
They sent her to the nearest city to revive her spirits and it was there that she met Akio. In those days, Akio was a promising young man who was never handsome but certainly attractive in his own way. His laughter and cheer was a good change from her father's quiet speech which was as slow and languid as the sea. His voice and nature distracted her from her memories of her first love's rough, but tender hands and gently considerate eyes. He was a worker in one of those typical offices and he boldly told her that he found her attractive the say he met her. Again, a change from her dead lover's slow awakening of his own emotions and eventual romantic and beautiful confession. He made love to her quickly, grunting and heaving above her. She felt next to nothing but let him do as he would while beneath him, she remembered faintly a warm, wanting voice and that beautiful slow build up to ecstasy in which both of them would lose their inhibitions and find only each other.  
  
But he was a man and she was lonely. So when he told her he would marry her presenting to her an expensive but cheesy ring, she put aside her old one and accepted her fate. She took him home to meet her parents.  
  
Her father was pleased with the match, happy to watch his only child taken care of and able to finally leave their little fishing town to the suburbs. Her mother had taken one look at the boisterous man who was her son-in-law and knew what kind of match her daughter made even if her daughter hadn't. Her mother did not truly approve, or even acknowledge the marriage, until Chihiro was born, a daughter, a woman, worthless to so many but to their home, she was a tiny miracle.  
  
Yuko's father arrived at the hospital with an old tea set that had been the family best. Yuko used to admire it when she thought no one was looking, lifting each cup from the box and holding it to the light to see the painted orchids. The set was leftover from her mother's family who had once been wealthy but reduced to almost nothing when their home was destroyed in a floor. One year, the sea rose high above the normal ride line. The inhabitants barely had time to grab their children none the less a tea set. Luckily, Yuko's mother, who had always been afflicted with some illness or another, had been staying with relatives in another village with better weather for her health. The woman had taken with her a few treasured items she did not wish to be parted with. Symbol. A symbol of a better life than a fisherman's daughter. Than living in a small village that stank of the sea.  
  
She remembered her mother, dressed in a clean, brown kimono catching her holding the forbidden tea cups in her hands. Her mother's shrill voice shocked the little girl who dropped two of the cups that hit the tatami with a clear sound. PANG. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The beautiful cup which she had admired and put so much hope it chipped. She had cried in shame and fear, expecting a good slap. Her mother, however, had simply put her hands around her and held the cup in her hands and mused, "Such beautiful things are for those who have no burdens. You see? Now it is fit for our house." Yuko cried harder. Her mother put the tea set back in the box and left her daughter to her tears.  
  
Her mother had also presented a gift. But not to the couple. She held the clumsy Akio in contempt and her wishy-washy daughter was a disappointment. But the pretty little Cherub that was Chihiro was her joy and pride. In a small box, Yuko found a small girl's outfit complete with pretty pink shoes. Her mother insisted that Chihiro would grow into them.  
  
A few months later, Yuko's father, who now did not need to fish for a living but merely went out on his boat for pleasure was lost at sea, Yuko's mother went to live with them. Her strong clear eyes were clouded and joyless. She had married at nineteen and had born Yuko at two and twenty. She was forty four.  
  
She claimed that she saw the tempest rise above her head and consume her husband. She would never see the sea again.  
  
Yuko had just started work at a nearby factory so the widow stayed at home with the baby. In that way, she began to live again. She cherished Chihiro and in her she put all her hopes and all her fears. "Do not take this child near the sea. It will swallow her as it did you father." The woman's words were spoken out of paranoia and years of depression but nonetheless, the couple never took the toddler to the beach as she requested. It did not matter.  
  
And Yuko remembered a different river. A different boat. She could hear the water slowly bob up and down and the boat parting the waves in a lulling motion. She could still feel the stickiness of her skin and the sweetness of a toddlers flesh in her arms. Her beautiful Chihiro, safe in her lap. Not the sea as her mother had warned. It was a river. A river that had almost taken her daughter. A family vacation to the water. She has missed it, Yuko realized. The stench of the sea had become all but a faint perfume and her husband's youth and energy was tiresome and juvenile.  
  
But she had Chihiro. A daughter borne of desperation to add life to her existence dressed in a small pink dress and tiny pink shoes. She had tried hard not to cry at the comforting rocking motion of the boat. She relived her own girlhood sitting in that little motorboat with her husband awkwardly trying to get comfortable. She could almost feel her first love's breath on her neck and arms about her waist. In that one moment of nostalgia, her husband lifted the little girl into his arms, and in that one moment of impulsiveness, her daughter fell into the water.  
  
Yuko had tried to jump in after her but her husband held on to her tight. The police searched for hours and found no trace of the baby. They thought she was lost. Until hours and hours later, they found her sitting by herself on the shore. She was missing a shoe.  
  
The expression on her daughter's face was strange and eerie. A look of extreme concentration and wisdom. Her eyes were trained into the water and in one chubby hand she held a handful of wet sand. She did not move. Yuko followed her daughter's gaze into the water and for one moment, one second, saw a pair of dragon eyes staring back at her. Powerful and accusing. Why did she not watch her daughter better? Why did she ever let her daughter go? But than it was gone, and the eyes disappeared with a flash of brilliant white. And than there was nothing but the river and its impenetrable color of blue. Hysterical and overjoyed, she lifted the toddler into her arms calling to her husband. Chihiro was safe. But she noticed than that the strange look was still plastered on her daughter's face.  
  
Then Yuko's mother got the news of the events of that day, she slapped her daughter and snatched the baby girl out of her arms, cradling it and weeping. Her hopes and dreams could have been lost in one powerful wave of the river. It was that day that she presented the toddler with the biwa. Yuko's grandmothers own biwa which Yuko's mother taught to Chihiro with surprising gentleness and patience.  
  
All rivers lead to the sea. That was the crux of it wasn't it.  
  
Chihiro. She had given birth to the girl out of selfishness. She never knew what a blessing a daughter could be. It was Chihiro who held her during her mother's funeral service and Chihiro who had given the speech of remembrance. Chihiro had cooked and cleaned the house with an eerily expert care for a twelve year old while Yoko lay in bed squeezing tears into her handkerchief. Chihiro's grandmother left her a good sum of money and all her possessions as well as an old set of Japanese instruments. Including the biwa.  
  
But she remembered with sharp clarity the day before her mother's death, she smelled suspiciously like salt and before the old woman collapsed, she had cried out, "Tsunami!"  
  
Yuko has lain, alone and helpless with her grief, on her bed as her husband paced outside the room, nervous and unsure. It was that moment when her daughter went into the room and began to play. The biwa. It soothed her soul. It soothed her heart. The music sounded like the great sea of her childhood. Her father's monotonous, throbbing voice. The languid fluidity of her mother's hands. The repetitive tempo of the sea washing up to shore and coming onto her bare feet. Her tears went into her mouth and she tasted the salty liquid. That one song was enough to transport her two decades past. Her empty stomach suddenly felt very full and health poured out of her body. That's when she realized that Chihiro was glowing. Literally. It was not the first nor the last time Yuko would ever question the power of her daughter. She had seemed magical and wraithlike and Yuko fell into a deep dreamless sleep. When she awakened, Chihiro was snuggled beside her holding the biwa in her arms. The Chihiro who took charge and comforted, the Chihiro who cleaned and cooked was not her daughter, she realized with horror. Those motions Chihiro used were like Yuko's mother and always Yuko would believe that that night, it was her mother who comforted her using Chihiro as an earthly vessel. She awakened the tiny little girl who started from her mother in alarm shoving the biwa away from her own body in fear. She refused to touch it and withdrew into her own world of childish practicality and cowardice.  
  
Chihiro became bratty and uncontrollable. She made friends easily enough but unfortunately made enemies twice as quickly. Her cleverness knew no bounds and her intuition was nearly always correct. When Akio's company relocated him, Chihiro had seemed totally unmoved. Yuko had expected tears and tirades of fury. But Chihiro obliged her and packed her things. So she was normal but not really normal. Yuko was used to her tiny voice telling her how to do things, small things, like not buying too much of this vegetable because it would "obviously" rot before all of it was eaten. Or not buy a dress because the material would "fall apart easily". She had bought the dress anyways despite her daughter's warning hoping to wear it on the day of the move as a sign of her new life in a new town but sure enough, after three washings, the threads broke loose and the gown split into pieces.  
  
She ended up wearing her normal everyday outfit. Opting for her special gold earrings. Chihiro had said nothing but merely sulked and soaked up the sun in the backseat. Yuko had told her to wear a seat belt, but Chihiro ignored her and lay on her back examining the flowers her friend had given to her. Such pretty blossoms. Chihiro was fascinated by them. Whether she was fascinated with her friend's sentiment or with the flowers themselves, she would never know. Before the trip Chihiro's little voice chirped to them to "write down the directions and not let Daddy drive like a chicken". They ignored her. She resisted the urge to slap her daughter's face as her own mother would surely have done when she was a girl. Who was this little idiot to tell her what to do all the time? A flash of resentment went through her body. And unbearable pain. She wanted to be rebellious and not listen to Chihiro because in some twisted way, Chihiro reminded Yuko of her own mother and so when she told them not to go in through the tunnel, they ignored her. The action itself was done out of pent of up frustration. But then she felt the warm press of her daughter's hand on her arm and she realized that Chihiro for al her wisdom was still a little girl, overly cautious and presumptuous in her manners. She still needed a mother and Yuko felt ashamed at her horrible thoughts. Her husband, a self declared out doors man, seemed to enjoy the meadows that ran on the other side of the tunnel but Yuko was afraid of the strange staring statues. Chihiro looked just as afraid trying to pull them back. Then something very strange happened. For one blurred moment, Yuko smelled something more delicious than anything in the world. She wanted to follow it and eat and eat until she grew fat and grotesque but sated. And than the next moment, she realized with a panic that her daughter was missing. Fighting to hold down the nausea, she looked about the meadow. At that minute, she was so sorry. For selfishness. For lost hope. For a lifetime wasted. For her mother. For everything. And then she saw a glimpse of a familiar bobbing brown ponytail. It was Chihiro. Relief swept over her. Relief and love. That was when she began to love her daughter. But it would not do to hug the girl and kiss her cheek here. Why, she was only gone for a moment! Instead she gave her daughter a stern but half meant reprimand for running off and started for the tunnel. They walked out together into the strange forest again to find new car rusted and covered with moss. Her husband's four wheel drive, pride and joy, rusted and ruined. Akio's confusion reflected onto her own face and she looked to her daughter. Chihiro's face. It was so old. So wistful. So silent. Something had happened in that one moment. Something strange and unknown that let her daughter age a lifetime. She and her husband cleared away the plant life on the car which barely started up. It was as if the car had aged decades.  
  
As their car left the forest behind, it seemed to get younger and younger until the ride was as smooth as it was when they first bought it. Akio finally relented to ask for direction once they got out of the forest, yelling his questions at a half deaf local through an open window. They reached their new home in good time and as Akio's stepped out of the car, he gasped. Yuko rushed out too and to her shock, the rusted and destroyed car once again looked like new. Again, Chihiro said nothing.  
  
They spent the rest of the day unpacking and cleaning. She left Chihiro to her own room and her own devices. After putting away the silverware, Yuko lay on the covered sofa too tired to think. And then she heard it. A faint lovely sound.  
  
She followed it to her daughter's room. She was strumming the biwa. From that day on, her daughter seemed to grow out of her strange shell. She was never to be a great beauty but she was most definitely striking with her grandmother's exquisiteness, her grandfather's insight, her father's friendliness and liveliness as well as clumsiness but oddly transformed so that her missteps and lack of balance made her seem more attainable and vulnerable as well as extremely being endearing. Her studies were never going to be perfect but they were most definitely high above average and her ability to grasp concepts made her popular and well liked. She was everything Yuko had hoped to be herself. But still, part of her still wished that Chihiro was the daughter of her first fiancée whom she loved all her life and not the child of Akio who she did not love at first but grew to love over years together.  
  
As Yuko wandered more and more into her thoughts, her grip on her wine glass loosened and slipped from her fingers. Something flashed beneath her eyes and she realized that Chihiro had caught the glass. Some sake still spilled on the floor and Chihiro cleaned it up with a napkin.  
  
She did not even look at her mother but went back to playing her little songs. Although Chihiro had every reason to be happy, Yuko sometimes caught a faraway look in her eyes that was all too familiar to her. "Wait for me" he had said and when he did not come back, her once clear eyes clouded and dulled with pain. Over the years, the sharp pain became deadened and throbbing eventually becoming emptiness, regret and disappointment. And so she understood her daughter the same way her mother understood her. With strange half understood glimpses of emotions and experiences but never really wanting to know everything.  
  
She could have left this family years ago and she never did. She made a decision and she stuck to it now. She owed her family that much. Tonight was her second wedding to the man who had taken care of her as best as he knew how. He was not perfect and he was not a poet but he was her husband and she was their daughter.  
  
She was awakened from her thoughts again but her husbands booming voice "Come come! Another song! Another one!" "Yes another one!" "One more!" the crowd echoed and Chihiro gave a shy modest smile before stepping up to the stage again. As her melody uplifted the souls of the multitude, she felt her own soul dip deeper and deeper into her heart but it was her heart she put into the music.  
  
Yuko proudly watched as her daughter showed off her skills as well as her manners before her peers startling only at someone's hand on her shoulder. It belonged to a very well dressed woman perhaps in her early thirties. She was so beautiful that Yuko almost had to draw back. But the woman seemed to expect that and bowed before her. "I congratulate you on your marriage Ogino-San." Yuko polite stood and bowed back. "I thank you for your kind words. Please sit." The woman sat in Chihiro's unoccupied seat and watched Chihiro with hooded, hungry eyes. "Your daughter. She is gifted and beautiful both." Again, Yuko bowed her head respectfully trying to figure out who this woman was.  
  
"Again, I thank you but I am sorry I do not recall meeting such a kind person."  
  
The woman smiled matronly. A strange look on such a young face. "I was the friend of Sato Yuriko and Sato Aika."  
  
Yuko gaped at her. "Why, Sato Yuriko was my grandmother. My mother's mother and Aika was my mother."  
  
"I know." the woman answered without lifting her eyes off Chihiro.  
  
"But Sato Yuriko died long ago and you look so young."  
  
"Do I?" the woman pondered. "You are kind."  
  
They were silent for a moment before the woman rose to her feet. "You love your family despite it all don't you?"  
  
Yuko was shocked. "Why of course!" she exclaimed.  
  
The woman seemed to be satisfied with that answer. "But you long for the past that can no longer be yours and always you will be bitter and cold."  
  
Yuko bowed her head in shame. "But truly. I love my family."  
  
The woman nodded absently. "There will be a time Ogino-San when you must decide what is important to you."  
  
Again silence. "You daughter, Ogino-San, she has Yuriko's face and Aika's talent."  
  
"Mother played the biwa?" asked Yuko.  
  
"Aika played beautifully before the fall of her family. She was bred to be a lady and that I taught her. When the sea destroyed everything she held dear, all she had was a half-insane woman for a mother and her fingers. She watched her family perish in the water along with her home. For years, she wove, sewed and played for money. I suppose after she married she never played again. She never forgave herself for cheapening music so but one must do as they must and she kept herself from begging as she would."  
  
"My mother was proud to be married to my father."  
  
"Was she?"  
  
Yuko practically shook with anger. How dare this woman just walk in and start insulting her mother.  
  
"It matters not." the woman yawned. "I did what I could for her but she wasted away anyways. She did not take my offer. I suppose I should never have made it an option."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Oh. Nothing you should be concerned about now. Chihiro. She has the light. Potential."  
  
"Did my mother?"  
  
The woman's face was tender than and so old looking. She turned Yuko's face up. "In the old days, a woman was measured by her mother's family even more so than her father's. Your line is very old, girl. Chisato, Esa, Ginko, Yuriko, Aika and so many before them. Aika had the same hope in her and so did you. Hers was snatched from her, child. I sympathize with her. But you. You threw away any power you had years ago. Willingly. I can not allow you to take Chihiro."  
  
The woman's eyes.  
  
Were like a storm on the sea.  
  
:: " Do not take this child near the sea. It will swallow her as it did you father." :: "What? Wait!" cried Yuko as the woman began walking towards Chihiro like a hurricane, and all parted in her wake. 


	2. Rosuto

Arashi  
  
Rosuto  
  
She wished her father would not be so loud. Chihiro winced as the crowd laughed again to one of Akio's infamously cheesy but funny jokes. She saw him glance at her for approval and she gave him a bright smile. He seemed satisfied enough, looking back towards his friends.  
  
She trained her eyes to look up at him and the rest of her face followed their lead, spreading into a politely interested expression. It was as if her face had stopped being a part of her. It became as mask. The REAL her was busily playing some strange tune on her lute. It wasn't a song. Not in the classical sense.  
  
Chihiro loved improvisation and her mother looked as if she desperately needed reassurance. So she trained her fingers, which had been flying about so gaily before, to play something slow and soothing. A bit of sea, a bit of wind, a bit of whisper and a melody formed into pleasing waves of sound. She was not sure if it was the music or perhaps the sake but gradually Yuko began to relax against the cushioned chair. Chihiro gave her mother an indulgent look before slipping into her own thoughts.  
  
Yuko.  
  
She was still beautiful and she had been even more beautiful in her younger years. Chihiro had seen the photos and the short films taken of the brief family vacations when she was a child. The woman was lithe and graceful with long, brown hair and pretty eyes. Chihiro supposed she cut off her hair around the time they moved into town and remembered privately mourning the loss of the pretty tresses. They were fun to burrow her fingers in. She loved to play with her mother's hair and having quick, fast fingers, she was able to braid them with pretty bands.  
  
Her mother had looked so pretty in braids.  
  
Chihiro's hands began to go too fast and she frowned at herself. It was hard to concentrate on two things at once.  
  
Yuko unlike her husband aged well. The plumpness gave her a healthy, content and somewhat matronly look. Chihiro had told her that, that she was beautiful, only last night when they prepared her make-up. Yuko's eyes had flashed happiness and youthfulness that Chihiro had not expected. She had seen that same look in Yuko's eyes only once more. In a photo that had been misplaced in the wrong album. It was old and monochromatic but still well preserved. It was also the first time she had seen her mother before she was married.  
  
She wore a ceremonial kimono and a very formally arranged obi. In one hand she held a beautiful fan. Behind her was a young man she did not recognize. He wore a hakama and a gi. His expression was stern and serious but his eyes were joyous and playful. So did her mother's. The formality of their poses betrayed the tenderness of their mutual emotion. It was pure love.  
  
She had shown it to her mother and in her childishness she had unintentionally recalled painful memories for her mother. She could hear it in the back of her mind.  
  
A tiny voice telling her mother that she looked pretty and asking her if that was what Daddy looked like when he was young.  
  
Her mother's face.  
  
She was so shocked.  
  
Her hand swung back as if she were going to slap her own child.  
  
And than it came back down.  
  
Her voice was chilled and sad. "That's not your father."  
  
Chihiro's eyes which had begun to close snapped open bringing her to the present. The tune was beginning to harden like the sides of an over-baked cookie. Immediately, she loosened her fingers.  
  
As second-hostess, it was her job to make sure that everyone at the wedding was comfortable but Chihiro's mother had basically left that job to her daughter, a role that Chihiro had taken with a sigh and a pang of regret.  
  
She should not have to do these things for her mother. Yuko was living through her daughter, something that no mother should have to do. Chihiro did not mind helping but had always thought that her mother should have a life of her own, enjoy the real world as opposed to her current state of living in her private world of solitude and days gone by.  
  
In truth she sometimes felt as if her mother were the young girl and she the wise woman. Sometimes, Chihiro would feel a strange pull on her body, as if a heavy burden had been pushed on her slim back. That was when she felt the oldest, the heaviest, and anchored by age to the red, solid Earth.  
  
Over the years it had gotten worse. Yuko would sometimes just freeze in the middle of whatever she was doing, lost in her own thoughts. Her eyes were like the sea. Everywhere. Nowhere. Lost. Indescribable.  
  
That photo of Yuko when she was young; Chihiro had seen the innocence and strength in her mother's posture but now, her fortitude had been stripped from her leaving her naked in fate's way.  
  
And she was her mother's daughter, unable to deny her mother the tiny amount of shelter that she as a daughter could offer.  
  
With a deft eye, Chihiro scanned the room to make sure everything was going smoothly.  
  
The party was going well. The caterers that Chihiro called were as perfect as they claimed. They had been the most expensive company on the island. Akio was flustered and furious of the price they named when he called them. He had hung up angrily muttering about Japanese inflation. Chihiro had sighed and gone down the company to see the chefs personally.  
  
Within fifteen minutes, she got her parents forty percent off. Her father was shocked but pleased. Her mother gave her a wary look and said nothing. Chihiro was not naïve enough to think she did not have charisma. She was rather proud of herself actually. It was her mother that frowned on Chihiro's ability to charm others. But Akio was happy so her mother naturally kept her mouth shut.  
  
And her mother did look beautiful. The gown she wore was neither too old fashioned nor too modern for a woman of her years. She picked it out herself.  
  
Though Chihiro's mother was considered an older woman and expected to dress conservatively, Chihiro did not see why her mother could not look attractive at the same time. The shopping trip was spontaneous and in her opinion all too brief.  
  
She had come home from her Student Council meeting and called out, "Tadaima!" cheerfully. And she heard the sound of things falling. She ran upstairs afraid her mother had fallen down or perhaps injured herself. The source of the noise was in her parent's room. Boxes and gowns of all colors were strewn all over the room and her mother sat in the midst of the chaos with a bemused expression on her face.  
  
"Mama?" she called softly all the sudden very afraid.  
  
She had seen that look before. When she was very young. An old woman, still quite lovely, holding Chihiro's little hands. "Like this", she instructed. "Very gently. Gently." And Chihiro tried to be gentle but her chubby fingers refused to obey and out came this terrible noise, as if something were ripping in two. RRUNG. Not soft at all. Frustrated, she began to plead for the lesson to end. The woman sighed. "You manner will soften with age. Everyone does." And little Chihiro had pushed the woman away. "Louder sounds better! More fun!"  
  
The woman smile indulgently pushing away a stray lock of hair back into her ponytail. "Loud sounds are the lightning and the howling winds but the soft ones are the warm, wet breeze and trickling rains."  
  
"I have never heard any soft biwa songs" Chihiro mused and than she was struck by sudden brilliance. "You play soft songs for me?" Chihiro asked.  
  
And a dazed expression spread over the woman's face. Like she was lost. The woman rose and left the room, legs wobbly and unsure.  
  
The expression had scared her and Chihiro went searching for her mother whose face now reflected the loss and regret.  
  
"Mama?" she repeated softly stepping towards Yuko. And she saw what Yuko was doing. Her jewelry box was open and in Yuko's hands was a small, very delicate but not very expensive looking silver ring.  
  
She had taken her mother by the arm, almost desperate to get her out of that room. "Come now Mama. There's nothing suitable in that closet. We must go buy a new one. Come on."  
  
The ring was pried from her mother's cold fingers and placed back into the box and in a few moments, her mother's purse was her hands and her mother was in the driver's seat.  
  
The ride to the mall was awkward to say the least and so was the trip. They searched through the department stores and nothing looked right.  
  
He mother had suggested wearing a kimono. Traditional and proper but Chihiro insisted on finding a gown hoping to bring her mother into the more modern traditions. And than she felt it. An odd pull coming from one of the smaller shops.  
  
The dresses in front were plain enough, brilliant pastels in tulle skirts and badly boned bodices. They had the air of prom gowns bought by teenage girls, not for a sophisticated woman.  
  
But than they went through the back. A flash of color blinded her and she grabbed it off the rack.  
  
They had found the perfect gown. Blue like the sea. Flowing like a river. It flowed from her shoulders and over her arms. It crept tightly down her torso and into a beautifully full skirt. It covered her skin in a modest cut but brought out her eyes and the paleness of her smooth flesh. She had looked disturbingly young and heartbreaking.  
  
That moment was glorious.  
  
And than her mother looked at the price tag. "Oh Chihiro. Don't get my hopes up. This is way too expensive."  
  
"It's your second wedding, mother!"  
  
"It's going to need new shoes and some proper jewelry."  
  
Chihiro smirked at the memory. Yuko hated Chihiro's "allure" because of her ability to work it even on her mother. Despite her mother's adamant decision to just wear an old kimono, she somehow found herself standing outside the shop three minutes later. The new dress of carefully wrapped in a gift box. Along with matching shoes.  
  
"Your grandmother would have been totally against this." her mother had whispered to her as if her grandmother were still alive and behind them with an eavesdropping ear.  
  
Her grandmother. She was actually quite young when she died but her fingers were soft and she was tender and loving when she was not lost in her own world of loss and confusion. She taught Chihiro everything she knew about music. Chihiro could have been called a master at the biwa when she was eleven and the koto and shamisen followed when she was thirteen. Through the years, she expanded her field by learning the different techniques and instruments of the Middle East, Europe and even China. Takashi-Sensei at school had been so pleased with Chihiro's skills in the gu-zhen that she arranged for Chihiro to perform for the mayor and other government officials at the Town Hall.  
  
The funny thing was that she never heard her Grandmother play a note herself. Even touching the biwa made her Grandmother uncomfortable. When she inquired her mother about the strangeness of it all, her mother had told her that her Grandmother had once been struck by extreme poverty and had to play the biwa in the streets begging for anything a passerby could give her.  
  
Her grandmother's face. Every time she touched the biwa, it was as if she felt a great tremor of pain. In the beginning her grandmother stroked it if only to show Chihiro how to feel and how to hold it. But as Chihiro grew older, her grandmother asked Chihiro to hold the biwa and fetch it from its case. Her grandmother began to teach the lesson with her back facing Chihiro and only listening to the sounds. Eventually, her grandmother stopped looking it all together.  
  
Despite her peculiarities, Chihiro loved her grandmother and knew her grandmother loved her back.  
  
She remembered once she had fallen asleep in the bath tub. The water was warm and gently on her skin. The world became a beautiful cosmos of tender voices and mist.  
  
And than it was gone. Chihiro's eyes opened slowly to reveal her grandmother looking down at her with wild eyes. She picked Chihiro up, wrapped her in a towel and proceeded to scold her angrily for taking too long in the water.  
  
Chihiro had been angry and tearful. At that moment, she hated her grandmother.  
  
She did not understand.  
  
Unlike her grandmother, Chihiro loved the water. It was gentle and blue, rocking and comforting. It was exciting and white with foam. It was cold and callous, still and frozen.  
  
Annoyed at herself, Chihiro continued to pluck at the strings.  
  
Every time she thought of water, she would think of rivers and every time she thought of rivers, she would think of HIM. A man-child whose character was like the ocean. A face that was blurred by memory and magic. Her most beloved memory. Or dream. Or hallucination.  
  
A loud roar of laughter was a welcome distraction from her angst. Apparently, one of her Uncles had made a very funny but lewd joke.  
  
Chihiro watched her mother from the corner of her eyes. Her father was now boasting of the stocks he had bought the other day to his office mates. Stocks that Chihiro had advised him to buy. Her father had a selective memory. But she did not mind too much.  
  
She was already Chihiro the Beauty, Chihiro the Scholar, Chihiro the Genius and Chihiro the Talented. There was no need to be Chihiro the Stock Broker after all. She was seventeen now and looking forward to her final year of high school. Chihiro was anticipating college with her eye on Tokyo University, Kyoto or maybe Hokkaido. Or perhaps she could travel abroad as some of her friends have already done. Mika had accepted her invitation to study physics at Princeton. Suki had rejected her acceptance to Kyoto University for Stanford.  
  
Away and across the deep blue sea.  
  
Kohaku was like the sea.  
  
He had told her they would meet again and she had believed him. But as the years flew by one by one and her childhood disintegrated into volumes of photos and memorabilia, she began to lose faith. His voice became an echo and his face a mere shadow. His hands became the wind and his skin as intangible as smoke. Perhaps that was the way with things. When you are a child, you have the ability to wait and wait and wait because you trust that whatever you are waiting so desperately for will come. A parent, a doll, a friend.  
  
But when you grow up, time flies like sand in the wind. Gone in a moment and irretrievable. And you realize that promises can be broken as easily as hearts and emotions are never simple.  
  
Days in the spirit world were years in the real one. She had never considered that perhaps the forest itself was another world. Her time with the Spirits passed quickly despite her role as a common drudge. Never once in her time there did she mull over the variable of time. Nor did she reflect on her new knowledge of the Earth and of nature.  
  
Every river was its own entity and every thing and every person had a name. Every lake and every tree had a life. The moment she stepped out of the spirit world, she had felt so aged. So wise. She had understood everything than. Every blade of grass and pebble were magnified. She saw their significance and the life that depended on them. But the moment the car began to drive away, she began to forget. Forget. Forget.  
  
She retained some of the wisdom she learned as well as the memories of her so called "pure love and courage" but everyday, the symphony of nature she grew accustomed to in those few moments at the bathhouse slowly died out to nothing more than a brief thrumming, only audible on certain days or in certain moods.  
  
He promised her she would see him again. The younger Chihiro was willing and knowing. Again could be tomorrow or the day after that. Again could be a brief moment of intimacy when she was ninety and at her death bed.  
  
She once had a nightmare where he came to her on her weddings day with hurt eyes.  
  
"I asked you to wait for me", he had said, eyes turning from the color of emeralds to that of the tangled sea weed left like garbage on the shore by the unforgiving tides.  
  
And she could say nothing in return. He had drawn back when she tried to touch him.  
  
She awakened in a pillow drenched of salt water which stung her skin and eyes.  
  
She had waited for him like she waited for something to come in the mail. At first, she checked everyday. Than every two days, weeks, months. And than nothing.  
  
And she had begun to understand.  
  
Their car, newly bought, had become ancient so quickly. The metal shell had withered and gnarled like an old woman's skin. Chihiro was not getting any younger.  
  
As a child, it had been her secret wish that he would come to her when she was a woman. She had seen old photographs of her grandmother, Aika, the epitome of a classic beauty. At ten she was looking forwards to having breasts and hips so that she may be as alluring. She had hoped that Kohaku was not going to be a boy forever. She had hoped she could marry him. Do spirits marry?  
  
She had wanted to be perfect so when he came, she would be worthy of him.  
  
In a few years, she had her body and her pretty voice. She had boys vying for attention and affections. She listened to each of them boast, watched each of them as they displayed their virtues and she praised each boy with a smile and a kind word. She had girl friends, some admiring and petting, some clever and formidable, some merely comrades against the eternal Hell of public education. She had everything any girl could ever want.  
  
And she had nothing.  
  
Because what she wanted was someone she was not even sure existed, the bare wisps of a dream and everything else was an asset for her to attain him.  
  
It had once sprung into her mind she go see him, back in the Spirit World but she had realized than that if she went back, there was always a high risk of being caught and self-sold into servitude. Again. And need to be rescued and comforted. Again. She would NOT be a burden upon him. He had been so good to her. She would not throw his efforts away because of teenage anxiety. No. Better to wait here. He said they would find each other. When a person is lost, it is always better to stay where you are until you are found.  
  
She was lost. Like her mother. Like Aika. She just chose not to reject her life as they did.  
  
Most nights she dreamed of him. When she woke up, she cried because she was alone and the Spirit World was clearer than ever. She could feel it now in her bones. The ghost of the damned wrote strange words on her window pane out of the frostiness of their fingers. Air borne spirits gossiped to one another above her head.  
  
And she could hear a thousand voices in the pipes. Water spirits accidentally caught in the reservoir who complained loudly and grumpily, disgusted with their own filth and looking forward to being cleansed.  
  
She threw her pillow over her head to block the endless chatter until it slowly faded like a dream and she would barely remember any of it at all.  
  
But there was one song she remembered hearing once in the midst of the night.  
  
"Children of magic and children of time, Connected by veins of magic entwined, From the ruins of Troy,  
  
And the island of Crete, From Arabian deserts, To sycamore trees, I call from the depths of Caribbean Seas, A whisper, a murmur in the autumnal breeze. I cry out your name from far Tripoli, Your fate is the door way and faith is the key, I hold out my arms in the old land of Mu, A goddess, a calling, is christening you.  
  
She sits on her throne like a Goddess of old, She is just and a beauty, she is kind, she is cold. From her hands comes the music that can soothe and can heal, From the lute comes the power that she alone wields. On her brow is the weight of her wisdom and guilt, Her heart is a flower that already wilts.  
  
Children of logic and Children of truth, When only your reasons can pacify you, Who trusts only their eyes? And intangible light, And doubts in those things, That go bump in the night? My word if the law, what's black and what's white, When only the rules can determine what's right, My breathe comes in numbers spilled into your mind, For through magic or reason, you will become mine.  
  
She kneels in her home like a Goddess of old, She ages and strengthens by hour, I'm told, Her songs lull her children from twilight to day, And keeps the nightmares and monsters away, On her brow is the weight of her daily decay, Willing that illness and death stays at bay.  
  
Two paths set before her and only one life, Both stricken with death and hardship and strife, Two worlds are waiting and hidden in shade, One world shall win her and the other will fade."  
  
The voices that chanted that came in a chorus. Some of the tones were silvery and soft and some were deep and cold. But she did recognize one voice in particular. The strongest. The surest. It was hers.  
  
:: One shall win her and the other shall fade. ::  
  
She wasn't naïve enough to think that it was a dream or a brief moment of poetic genius. It was a message, a forewarning. It meant something.  
  
She had taken the premonition apart and studied it. Perhaps the two worlds would war in which one wins and the other dies? No. Impossible. Both worlds were intertwined like veins and arteries to a heart. It was wrong to call the Physical World the "Real World" because even if the Spirit World was nothing but a dream, it was real in her mind and if it truly did exist than  
  
Perhaps it meant that the Physical World was just that. Physical. Things would not last. The rivers would become streams and than creeks and than nothing but valleys beds of fossils and stones. The mountains would become hills and than sand while ones spirit was eternal. In one world, a body would age and in another it would not.  
  
But slowly it became apparent to her the true meaning. That in her mind, she would have to choose. That if she so chose, the Spirit World would become more real to her than the Physical. Or is she pleases, the Spirit World would die in her and she would be as they said in the poem. Logical. Calculating.  
  
Or she would lose herself in eternal dreams  
  
Chihiro stopped her playing for a moment to take a sip of water. Unlike her parents, she did not drink.  
  
:: As long as the dreams were of Kohaku. ::  
  
Again, Chihiro shook her head.  
  
Where in the name of the Seven Lucky Gods did that come from?  
  
:: I asked you to wait for me. ::  
  
And she was going to. Wait. Forever. This world was like the sea and Kohaku was a river. It might take another day and it might take a thousand years but all rivers lead to the ocean and when they did, she would be there to receive him.  
  
Cries for another song reached her ears just as a smile began to spread over her face and her eyes narrowed a bit in annoyance. But no one noticed. Obligingly, she went back onto the small stage and began to play.  
  
And than she saw her. A woman sitting beside her mother.  
  
She wore a plain but very beautiful kimono with painted cranes in soft hues and her waist was clasped by a beautiful obi woven with silver threads.  
  
But it was the woman's eyes that caught her attention. She looked young and yet so old. Her face. It was so pale. She was smiling at Chihiro and Chihiro felt a strange tingling feeling. As if she was being judged.  
  
The woman stood steadily, her eyes never leaving Chihiro's. Her mother was rising in shock and alarm.  
  
And Chihiro saw this panic rising in her mind but she already knew what was going to happen.  
  
The woman was coming for her and her mother was helpless as she always had been. No one would save her.  
  
No mortal can prevent the oncoming of a storm. 


	3. Benzaiten

Arashi  
  
Benzaiten  
  
When Chihiro was only three years old, her mother dragged her to the book store. She had whined and pleaded for her mother to leave her at home so she could watch television, but her mother merely gripped her tiny hand and bundled her up in her warm little jacket and in moments, they arrived at a tiny little store off of Main Street.  
  
It was not one of those super clean and bright mega stores, not small and charming but tiny and musty filled with thick, cheaply bound books. Chihiro had pouted and clung to her mother's hand until her mother pried her off and swatted her towards the children's book section. She did not understand why her Yuko did not want Chihiro to see the "romance novel" section. Sulking, as most people know, is only satisfying when there are those who can snort or better yet, comfort you around.  
  
Alone and somewhat put off, Chihiro wandered the cramped aisles, bored out of her mind, until something in the corner of her eyes caught her attention. It was an oceanography book.  
  
Something about that book caught her eyes. It wasn't the bright gold characters embellishing the top and nor was it the thickness, almost 2 inches, much too difficult for a child. It was the cover. The color. The waves. She had stared at the picture trying to remember something that seemed so familiar. Something at the bottom of her consciousness, so tangible she could almost grab it. The picture evoked something in her that day. It might have been the vividness of the blue. Or perhaps the mood but as she stared at it something stirred in her little mind.  
  
:: A flash of a blue and fear and than riding the water on something grand and white and pure as mountain springs. Green. Protective green eyes. ::  
  
And the deeper into her subconscious ness.  
  
:: A lake. A woman. A palace beneath the waters that glowed like a pearl. And a woman sitting upon her throne her eyes as deep and magnificent as her realm. ::  
  
She did not awaken from her trance until she felt Mother's frantic shaking of her shoulders and she looked up to meet Yuko's eyes, darkened with worry and she pointed reverently to the book which was propped quite innocently against a box. Chihiro could still remember that it was on sale.  
  
"Enkai.", she whispered to her mother, as if the book would here them and become angry at being spoken about in such a clandestine way.  
  
Her mother's hand on her shoulder tightened. She did not scold Chihiro for being a silly girl or for having strange fantasies. "O-Wata-Tsu-Mi", she corrected in a matching whispery voice.  
  
" O-Wata-Tsu-Mi.", Chihiro imitated, stumbling over the syllables charmingly and yet still managing to look adorable.  
  
"Yes", her mother sighed, trying to get Chihiro to turn her head so she could make her purchase.  
  
"Who is O-Wata-Tsu-Mi, Mama?"  
  
Yuko stiffened but bravely turned around to meet her daughter's curious gaze.  
  
"A green dragon of the dark ocean." she replied truthfully and than her eyes filled with longing. "His tongue is the little current, lapping at your toes and his jaws are the tidal waves that swallow men and lives with but a crash."  
  
"Will I see it someday? A dragon? A real dragon?" she was so eager, so excited by the prospect.  
  
Her mother didn't answer.  
  
When she had been sent to school and they were assigned to draw the island of Japan, Chihiro colored the ocean green to represent the emerald dragon of the sea. She received a good lecture and a warning. She still had the little picture. The islands were drawn to scale and in their precise locations. The geography was labeled. And the ocean around it was the color of undercooked peas.  
  
Her mother took one good look at the picture and burst out into laughter. But not the kind a good mother used to make good humor at her daughter's delightful error but one of bitterness and irony.  
  
From that day forth, Chihiro copied her classmates and made the sand a dull brown, skies light blue and the ocean, her wonderful ocean, a boring blue.  
  
That was about the time she visited the Spirit World. She saw Kohaku's eyes. Lovely and green. His scaled were silver and white as foam on the sea. And she understood.  
  
The ocean was many colors and many things.  
  
She had been assigned to paint the ocean in her sophomore year for her portfolio. In quick impressionistic strokes that Chihiro usually disapproved of, she painted a river in greens and whites and shades of blue that some of her classmates did not even know existed. The three colors used together so skillfully, the professor was forced to admit that a lesser artist would have been unable to pull it off. And yet Chihiro herself never thought of it as finished. There was something missing. Something essential to it that she had not thought of yet.  
  
She had kept the painting though the professor had offered her a considerable sum for it. It had meant too much to her.  
  
And now she understood what it was missing. Darkness.  
  
The deepest parts of the deep, immeasurable sea was black. Black eyes and black hair as dark as the River of the Dead.  
  
How could someone's eyes be so dark and so bright at the same time.  
  
As the woman advanced, Chihiro resisted the urge to bolt. Any other girl would have dismissed the ominous feeling emitting from the older woman as a silly notion in a pubescent head. But Chihiro was not an ordinary girl and the Spirit World had left its mark on her.  
  
In the end, vigilance and intelligence amounted to nothing but instinct. Trust in instinct. And despite the fear rising in her body, she knew from her intuition that this woman would not try to physically harm her. So she kept her clamoring body still. Her smile was frozen on her pretty face. The woman smiled back emptily.  
  
Every step on stage caused her kimono to shift slightly revealing the palest skin Chihiro had ever seen. It was not ghostly white nor was it sickly pale but the kind of skin that was bestowed on a woman that never needed to labor or tan in her lifetime. Her hair glowed beneath the lights, glossy, hair framing a smooth ageless face.  
  
She had seen this face before. She KNEW her as surely as she knew the back of her hand. She was in the photos of her grandmother, of young Yuko and existed in her own face. This woman was an older version of herself.  
  
And than the woman was beside her, reaching behind her for the spare biwa Chihiro had brought in case a string broke on her favorite one.  
  
What was she doing?  
  
The woman sat beside Chihiro and began to play with her. Her playing was incredible. Every pitch was matched in harmony or delightful discord adding dimension and an ounce of style that one instrument was incapable of achieving.  
  
The guests, who had at first been uncomfortable because of the woman now were delighted. The matrons whispered that perhaps she was a paid performer who wanted to prove her skills. The gentlemen said that she was a distant cousin of Yuko's on her mother's side. Her face, the bridesmaid's commented, reminded you of Yuko when she was young; full of talent and an indescribably wisdom.  
  
But Chihiro saw through the façade of vulnerability. The magic seeped off the woman like an aroma of too strong perfume. A small whiff was lovely but too much was frighteningly powerful. She was practically saturated with it. There was no doubt in Chihiro's mind. This woman had magic. This woman used magic. Hell. This woman WAS magic.  
  
As the song ended, the crowd broke into a wild applause and graciously, both able performers curtseyed before the adoring audience before exciting the stage. Chihiro, once off the stage tried to break into a run but stopped when she felt a cold, smooth hand grab her wrist.  
  
"Be still, girl. We have much to discuss." the older lady said, voice as smooth and dangerous as vintage wine.  
  
Chihiro struggled to get out of her grasp and panicking cried out a forcibly polite response, "What do we need to discuss. You were a wonderful musician. I enjoyed the duet very much. Some other time. Good day." The hand held tight. After a moment, Chihiro relaxed and sighed. "Leave me alone." she whispered.  
  
"So you know what I am.", the lady commented. "I would expect that of Yuriko's grand child. She was never clever but always had an open third eye."  
  
Chihiro blinked. "What you are?" her tone was curious and she clenched her unmolested hand hoping the witch would fall for the act.  
  
The witch frowned, "Stop playing the fool, girl. You knew the minute you looked into my eyes. I am of the Other World. I have come from the land of Spirits here to find you."  
  
Immediately, hope swelled into Chihiro's heart.  
  
"Have you come with Kohaku?" she cried. At last! He had come for her.  
  
The witch-woman frowned. "I have not come under orders from anyone. I have come here for one reason and one reason only. To retrieve you. For myself."  
  
Hearing this, the hope that had slowly begun to awaken in Chihiro's heart deadened again. So. She finally had gotten a visitor from the Other World and it was not Kohaku.  
  
Noting her crestfallen face, the woman regretted her blunt words but steeled herself against such emotions. She had a purpose here.  
  
"We need to talk. Now. But not here." she stated as if they were going to discuss what a scandalous neighbor was doing last Saturday night. "Come with me." She turned and walked towards the door out to the side parking lot. Chihiro watched her walk away. She could run now. The woman had let of her. But what if she did know of Kohaku? What if he was in trouble? Would it hurt to hear her out? A few simple words?  
  
:: Yes ::  
  
In Chihiro's heart she knew that a few whispered phrases could do more harm than one could imagine. But something drew her to this woman who had appeared out of the blue and awakened her senses.  
  
Her hand went to her injured wrist and she felt something small there. Her hair band. Made for her by her friends. It would protect her with what little magic was woven into it.  
  
And with that she followed the woman through the door way.  
  
"I have little time left. Come.", she commanded imperiously and just as Haku done that day they first met, this woman took her hand in her and they ran like the wind through the parking lot, through the town until they reached a small temple, with a muttered word, door opened and in they went, passerby's shaking their head at the strange wind that blew across their faces.  
  
They stopped before a small altar.  
  
"Shichifukujin", Chihiro read aloud from the placard that hung above it. The Seven Lucky Gods. What were they doing here? Her mother would be looking for her now!  
  
"In the land of the mortals, I have little power and what power I retain I lose as time goes by. But here, at this altar, I have some control." the lady answered.  
  
The dingy little area of worship became a very beautiful and serene tea room. The tatami, shoji and even the ceiling was done immaculately and symmetrically displaying wealth and taste.  
  
Out of thin air, a table appeared with tea and food. The woman knelt before it with more purpose than anything Chihiro had ever seen.  
  
"Kneel girl." she snapped impatiently.  
  
Not knowing what to do or where to run, Chihiro did the logical thing. She knelt down noting that her pretty dress had become a furisode of tempest blue with a lovely gold obi. There was one problem. She couldn't move in it. And of course she was afraid.  
  
"There's no need to be alarmed." a clear voice commented. The woman.  
  
"Where are we?" asked Chihiro trying to keep the fear from her voice. She had been brave before. But she was ten than, a fearless age.  
  
"Haven't you guessed?" asked the woman, "We are in the Spirit World."  
  
Biting her lip, Chihiro closed her eyes. The woman was not lying. Even from indoors she could hear the humming of life and a thousand spirits dancing and crying and laughing and living. This was the Spirit World. And she was not with Kohaku.  
  
"Yes yes. You're back. Don't be silly. Take a deep breath. Don't faint on me girl. This world is but a piece of it I managed to snatch of for the moment." the lady scolded. With one hand, she offered Chihiro a small rice ball and when Chihiro looked at the ball fearfully, she gave a rather unladylike snort. "My god. You ate the food of the spirits last time. It will not kill you."  
  
Words flashed through Chihiro's head. Passed lessons learned.  
  
Of a goddess and a pomegranate.  
  
The lady sighed and put down the refused food.  
  
"You may call me Benzaiten. I am the Enchantress of Enoshima."  
  
"The island?" Chihiro asked incredulously.  
  
"No not the island. The Enoshima is a Tea House of the Spirit World."  
  
"A tea house?" Chihiro's curiosity over rode her fear.  
  
The Benzaiten nodded. "I have been watching you Ogino Chihiro. You have the MARK of potential. Your skills. Your talent. They whither in the realm of mortals, lost in your petty squabbles and brief lives. Come with me. Become my apprentice. You would be a great addition to my tea house. I will make it worth your while."  
  
Chihiro's eyes widened. To be an apprentice...  
  
Benzaiten hid a smile behind her sleeve as she skillfully wove a spell around the mortal girl.  
  
The magic wound itself about Chihiro like inky fog. Twining in her hair and poisoning her blood.  
  
Chihiro shuddered as she saw it.  
  
Before her like a tapestry of temptation.  
  
The brightness and utter glory that was the Enoshima. And she sat upon the stage with her biwa knowing nothing but the music...and the praise. She was their goddess.  
  
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Chihiro broke away from the enticement.  
  
:: I have plenty of praise and music here. ::  
  
And than another offer.  
  
The darkness of temple walls. Murmuring and incense. And Chihiro lost amongst the many scrolls and secrets she could learn from her mistress...  
  
:: Is this what she has to offer? Old scrolls and dead history? ::  
  
Benzaiten shuddered as she felt the spell snap like a rubber band.  
  
Falling back on her heels, the older woman turned her face so Chihiro could not the see the gleeful smile. The girl was strong.  
  
And beginning to get up despite the tightness of the kimono.  
  
"I refuse your offer", Chihiro said bluntly. "You have tried to control my mind with magic. I cannot trust you. I cannot respect you. I cannot learn from you."  
  
Benzaiten looked up, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Truly? Are you more confident now that you feel as if you have defeated me?"  
  
The younger woman's hands tightened into fists.  
  
"I do not presume to know your strengths by one battle. But I do know now to trust my emotions. And my emotions say you are dangerous."  
  
Benzaiten grinned, teeth like fangs.  
  
A new spell wound around Chihiro's consciousness.  
  
:: She was beautiful, strumming her biwa like a goddess of the sea. And Kohaku was there. He was REALLY there.  
  
'You came to me, Chihiro!'  
  
She would meet him again and in his own world...if Chihiro would only come with her... ::  
  
Chihiro raised her hands to her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Slowly, the images ebbed away.  
  
She looked up into Benzaiten's eyes.  
  
Those black fathomless eyes.  
  
And she realized with sudden clarity that that the sun was setting. Soon it would be night time.  
  
The woman saw this too.  
  
Chihiro watched from inside as the sun went down and the horizon became a myriad of colors from the palette of the night.  
  
Benzaiten raised her chin. "Well than Chihiro. Outside this room is a little path, take it to the end and there is a small well. If you could jump into the well before the sun set ends, you can go home. But if you do not, you stay here."  
  
Chihiro stared. Surely the woman was joking! And than she heard it.  
  
The humming of the spirits had grown louder. This "little piece" was reattaching itself to the Spirit World!  
  
Unsteady on her sandals, Chihiro sprinted down the path, noticing that the path was becoming fainter and fainter and fainter...  
  
Soon there would be no path! The Earth was rising about her. The sky dimmed and she realized that the trees and the grass and the small mosses were shoving into her. Over powering her. Soon they would have her! One bramble caught her ankle and she stared down at it, tugging in fear only to trip backwards, feeling a snap as the branch split into two injuring her ankle.  
  
And then nothing.  
  
*** AN - Not as good as the other two I'm afraid. The first chapter always sounds so fresh until it is read a second time. There is always that moment of horror when an author reads his/her own published work only to realize that there's a mistake in it.  
  
Thank you for the reviews. Seriously. Otherwise I would not have continued. I see the plot in my head. I even drew character designs. But without the reviews I would have probably kept the story to myself.  
  
If you think MINE is the best, go to this and see me for the sham I am. I did not see this site prior to starting this story and after reading it, I realized how easy it would have been for me to never have discovered it. *shudder* Do yourself a favor and check it out.  
  
Laters. 


	4. The Mock Chapter

Arashi  
  
Prelude to Chapters  
  
I feel kinda...insulted. I'm trying to figure something out.  
  
I've just been alerted that this story is a "total Mary Sue".  
  
My God.  
  
Is it possible? Have I written a Mary Sue? An avatar of myself?  
  
I've tried hard NOT to... Which one is the Mary Sue?  
  
Yuko is Chihiro's mother...And she's nothing like me. So it's not her.  
  
Chihiro herself...she's not a child anymore. She's older now. You'd EXPECT her to be a little more mature... I don't THINK she's a Mary Sue...  
  
Benzaiten? Maybe SHE'S the Mary Sue. I drew her from Japanese mythology... A goddess of the Seven Lucky Gods. Her character hasn't even been drawn out yet. But maybe she does seem a little Mary Sue ish. I'm not sure. Maybe the reviewers can help me out.  
  
How does one add an original character without making it seem like a Mary Sue?  
  
Because I've read a lot of Mary Sue's before and I've tried so hard to make mine fit into the story.  
  
Maybe I've drawn it out too long. Maybe I should have dropped her back into the Spirit World in Chapter 1 where she meets up with a grown handsome Haku.  
  
Yep. I knew it. I should have had Haku and Chihiro make out sooner.  
  
Or MAYBE I should have had an 18 year old girl act like she's 7! That way she maintains true to her movie character.  
  
Can all you reviewers out there help me become a better writer? What can I do to make this a good fanfiction? Is it a Mary Sue? Is that why there are so little reviews (thank you to those who did!)?  
  
I'm so sorry do have wasted you time with this rant. I'm just trying to understand.  
  
But just so no one tells the host that I have posted an author's notes in place of a chapter, here's a little something to satisfy those who want a classic Spirited Away fanfiction.  
  
Arashi  
  
The Mock Chapter  
  
Yuko – You're a bad daughter. We hate you and don't understand you. Go die.  
  
Chihiro – I'm so lonely and depressed. Someone please save me. I want to die. Where is Haku?  
  
(Goes back into Spirit World.)  
  
Chihiro – I'm back.  
  
Haku – I'm glad. You're hot now.  
  
Chihiro – YAY!  
  
Yubaba – Damn that Chihiro! I'm going to get her.  
  
Zeniba – No you're not. Go Haku and Chihiro!  
  
(Haku beats up Yubaba.)  
  
Everyone – YAY!!  
  
(Chihiro and Haku kiss.)  
  
And they all lived happily ever after.  
  
***  
  
I couldn't resist. I'm sorry. I had to write that. Spelling errors and all.  
  
If you haven't, go to the site called Tea With the White Dragon. Visit the author's page of Mandarin Huntress and Shibahime Hibiya. They will blow you away.  
  
I'm sorry I didn't handle this more maturely. It takes so much effort to write. And for a few sentences to totally flame you away. It hurts. A lot.  
  
I'm peeling this thing off as soon as the next chapter pops out.  
  
Hope to hear from all of you soon.  
  
-FinixGrl 


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